


Behind the Wheel

by facetofcathy



Series: 2008 Kink Bingo Blackout [24]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: 1000-5000 Words, Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Roleplay/AU (Authority Figures)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-11
Updated: 2008-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-04 00:42:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facetofcathy/pseuds/facetofcathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know how when you stand in front of the fridge and you want something, but you don't know just what it is?  Yeah, that's John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind the Wheel

"Do you remember that mission to Aslan?" John said.

Rodney rolled over to look at him in the dim light.  John was staring up at the ceiling of their hotel room.  "I'm hardly likely to forget it."

"Yeah."  John grinned and then turned to look at Rodney, frowning a little.  "I don't think I could have done it, what you did."

"Which part?  Walking around all day wearing a collar on my neck and being ignored by all and sundry, or the really spectacular blow job?"

John laughed.  "At the time, neither."

"And now?"  Rodney asked. 

John frowned a little harder and resisted the flippant answer.  "I don't know."

"Well I know you're more than capable of spectacular cocksucking, so we're talking about the collar thing."

John nodded.  "It's just, I don't like what it represents."

"Well, as far as I'm concerned, it can represent whatever the hell you want it to."

"Yeah, I can see that.  You're not exactly the submissive type are you?"

"Not out of the bedroom, no."  Rodney smirked.  "And okay, often not in it either."

"I just, I guess I've never understood wanting to give up your autonomy in real life like those people on Aslan did.  The people in the collars were nothing like you.  They, I don't know, creeped me out I guess." 

"Well I've never been the most passive person, but sometimes letting someone else take the wheel is nice, relaxing.  But to make it a lifestyle, to accept that lessening of self, no I don't get it."

"Like some stupid porn movie fantasy where the cop pulls somebody over and ten minutes later they're ass fucking on the hood of the car.  You don't have to feel guilty for wanting what someone makes you do."

Rodney laughed.  "Or all the really trashy naughty boy gets spanked stuff."

"Or the military porn."  John shuddered dramatically.  "Trust me, there's nothing sexy about basic training."

"Some people need the illusion of having their choices taken away."

"Seems like not being man enough to face up to the consequences of who you really are and what you really want to me."  John glanced over at Rodney.  "Which okay, I've been guilty of in the past."

"Who hasn't from time to time?"

John shrugged and rolled over to face Rodney.  "Sometimes I watch you in the lab."  John stared at Rodney willing him to get it, to understand the conversational left turn. 

Rodney stared back.  "You're saying you get off on watching me.  Well that's no surprise, you are a voyeur.  But if you're talking the lab, you mean you get off on watching me push people around."

"Well I wouldn't say get off exactly, but in a different context, I think I would."

"Ah."

John smiled faintly, not too sure what _ah_ meant.

"One tiny problem."  Rodney smiled ruefully.  "I can't see Ronon or Teyla ever being willing to hand over that kind of authority to me, or to anyone else for that matter."

John was caught by Rodney's phrasing.  He'd never thought of it as granting authority before.  He'd always thought of it from the other side of the equation, seen it as taking control.  "Yeah that had occurred to me, so that leaves only one option."  John stopped again, not entirely sure what he was asking for.  He'd gotten this far in his head but not much farther.

"Well more than one really.  There are places, I even know of one in Denver, where you could watch me do all sorts of things to all sorts of people."

"No," John said immediately.  He could not imagine that.  Could not begin to see how he could stand there and let Rodney touch a stranger, someone who wasn't safe, someone who wasn't team.  He'd end the night in jail.

"No, not really my thing either, but if you - well no then."  Rodney frowned at him again.  "So one option then, that leaves you."

"Yeah." 

"You sound deeply thrilled by the prospect.  I'm missing something here.  You wouldn't have led me down this conversational trail for no reason."

John shrugged, not really able to articulate what he wanted even inside his own head.

Rodney rolled onto his back, his eyes unfocused, lost completely inside his own head.  John knew enough to wait out Rodney's thinking when their lives weren't at stake.  Rodney just understood him in a way no one ever had before.  Right from the first painful confession that he'd never been with a man before and on through some of the worst moments of John's life, Rodney had never disappointed him.  Rodney rolled over again finally and stared at John with a speculative look.  "You have to put yourself in my hands.  Trust me.  Do what I tell you even if you're uncomfortable."

John nodded his head slowly.  He wouldn't mind some details, but there was no question about trust.

"I'm making this up as I go honestly, so- Right, we are going to Denver.  Just somewhere else I happen to know about.  You, get your ass in the shower and spend lots of time perfecting the hair while I make some calls."

John sat up and headed for the bathroom.  "Rodney, are you sure-"

Rodney cut him off with a hand wave.  "No.  As of now, you do what I tell you.  No questions asked.  Don't worry, I'm not planning on beating your ass or anything like that.  I leave that to Ronon."

John felt himself flush and his mind raced, looking for an apology or an explanation, but Rodney just laughed.  "You thought I didn't know about that didn't you?  Now get in the shower and give me some privacy with the phone."

John did as he was told.

***

John stared down at his clothes.  Rodney had acquired, from some mysterious location, a tee shirt that looked just like any one of his uniform shirts except it was a size too small and about four inches too short.  No matter how he moved, it pulled out of his pants, and even with his helpful padding of chest hair, he could see his damn nipples through the tight material.  The dog tags had come off and been locked in the hotel safe.  The pants were another bone of contention.  They looked like green, SGC issue BDUs, and they were almost certainly exactly that.  They fit a whole lot tighter than what he usually wore, and Rodney had told him he was in no way allowed to wear any underwear.  He'd also made him wear his boots.  John wouldn't want to try this look in the halls of the SGC; he'd never looked less military in his life.

Rodney ushered John out to the rental car, holding the elevator open and stepping smartly forward to hold the lobby door while John walked through. John was feeling horribly exposed and on display and vaguely turned on. He wasn't surprised when Rodney pulled rank and insisted on driving. They may or may not make it to Denver alive, but they were definitely going to get there in a hurry.

Rodney pulled the car into a parking spot in a slightly decrepit looking urban area full of small stores.  He strode up to a small coffee shop and held the door for John.  John was uncomfortably aware of the stares of the mostly student clientele as he sat at the table Rodney indicated, chosen apparently for maximum visibility.  John gulped his too-sweet cappuccino and tried not to squirm.  Rodney didn't say much; he just focused on his own double espresso and smiled a little smugly at the attention they were getting. 

The next place they went to was a drug store where Rodney picked out a black eyeliner pencil and a box of condoms while John trailed along behind.  The condom package got ripped open at the counter and the box disposed of under the smirking gaze of the middle-aged cashier.  The condoms disappeared into the pocket of Rodney's jeans. 

Rodney handed the eyeliner to John when they were back in the car and said, "Do you know how to use this?"  John considered explaining that he'd spent his youth in prep schools and ROTC where that sort of thing was frowned on, but he decided if he could manage to live in another galaxy then he could figure out eyeliner on his own.  He took the pencil and slid it into the pocket of his pants. 

Rodney whipped around the corner at an alarming speed, cutting off an irate cyclist and swung into a parking spot in front of another line of stores.  The windows displayed a lot of black, a lot of leather, and a lot of silver studs.  

"So, while we were out, the eighties came back?" John said.

"Yeah, isn't it great?"  Rodney grinned and beckoned him through the door.

John made yet another entrance, trying not to frown too grimly. 

Rodney tormented him with the possibility of several bits of leather and metal, but restrained himself to the purchase of one wristband of studded, black leather.  The woman behind the counter interrupted her insolent, up and down inspection of John long enough to smirk when Rodney snapped his fingers at John to slip off his usual wrist covering to replace it with the leather.  "You know that purple hair just makes you look sallow," Rodney told her when she returned her gaze to John's chest.  "You might want to try blue next time."  Rodney squeezed John's ass on the way out the door, and John tried not to yelp too loudly.

Rodney drove them to a restaurant a few blocks away, managing not to kill anyone on the way.  The place was bright and full of chrome and glass so shiny you could see your reflection in the tabletop.  Rodney laughed and sang a few bars of _Mirror in the Bathroom_ once they were seated.  "Oooh, that reminds me," he said.  "Get your ass into the bathroom and see if you still remember how to use that eyeliner."

John decided not to mention that he'd never actually learned how unless watching his wife counted.  In case the décor, or the waiters in tighter pants than John's hadn't been clue enough, the nature of the restaurant was revealed by the sign on the men's room door that read, 'Absolutely no fucking in the bathroom.  This isn't the fucking Velvet Ballroom.  Get a fucking room.'"

Inside, John stared at himself in the mirror for a full minute.  He adjusted himself again.  He'd been half hard since he'd walked out of the shower, and Rodney had told him what to wear.  He closed his eyes and tried to picture Nancy at her dressing table.  He uncapped the eyeliner and got to work.  The result was startling.  His eyes looked huge and dark and not even remotely feminine.  He tried to imagine Rodney's reaction, and he grinned at his reflection.  Maybe it was time Rodney was the one doing the adjusting.  John shook out his arms and made himself relax.  He slouched a little, letting one hip cant out at an angle, and his lips curved into a slightly wicked grin.  He pictured a sultry little prowl across the restaurant floor back to their table.  He wiped away the grin, tried to look sexy without breaking into laughter and pushed open the door.

Hands swung him around, and he smacked hard into the wall of the dark little alcove that housed the bathrooms.  John let his hands be pinned to the wall on either side of his head.  A thigh pressed between his legs, and he obediently spread his legs a little wider. 

"I couldn't wait," Rodney said, voice low and husky.  "I needed a taste."  Rodney claimed John's mouth, and John let himself be kissed. 

He'd been expecting something hard and rough, but Rodney gave him slow and dirty.  He was coming undone, but not so quickly that he wasn't taking a few notes for future reference.  Rodney kept kissing him, lazily sliding his tongue into John's mouth and rocking his leg between John's thighs.  John was reduced to squirming to get free enough to gasp out an incoherent objection. 

Rodney pulled back and looked him up and down in mocking homage to the purple-haired store clerk.  John was panting against the wall, and he wrenched one arm free to adjust himself again.  Rodney grinned at him.  "John," he said in a voice full of smug promises.  "If you don't end the night coming in your pants I'm not doing it right."

"Fuck," John said too loudly and then winced when the laughter of a passing waiter filled the tiny corridor. 

Rodney glared at the waiter until he took his eyes off of John and went on his way.  "After you," Rodney said and smirked.  "I want a good look at your ass on the way back to the table."

John squared his shoulders and marched back to their table trying to pretend that the dozen or so full tables of patrons weren't all staring at the bulge in his pants and his pink, well-kissed lips.  He found a double scotch waiting for him, and he remembered again why it was Rodney he was doing this with. 

Rodney ordered them both steaks, and John concentrated on eating.  Eating calmed John down a bit, and the brandy Rodney ordered for him left him all loose-limbed and content.  When the meal was charged to Rodney's credit card, he stood up and looked at John like he was waiting for something.  John stared for a minute and then stood and oozed around the table.  He slipped his arm around Rodney's waist and let himself be pulled in close against Rodney's side.  They walked out of the restaurant with Rodney's big hand possessively on his ass. 

A brief interlude against the car door had John right back to where he'd been outside the restaurant men's room and got them a few rude comments from passers by.  Rodney laughed unrepentantly, and John squirmed in his seat for a few blocks of city traffic.

The night's next stop proved, not surprisingly, to be the Velvet Ballroom.  They walked past a line of prospective patrons that left John feeling too old by at least a decade and far too conservatively dressed.  Halfway to the door an impudent guy in leather pants and not much else reached out and pinched John's ass.  Rodney had the guy's wrist bent back at an alarming angle and was snarling into his face before John had realized it wasn't Rodney who'd touched him. 

"Try that again, and you'll be learning to jerk off with your left hand."  Rodney gave the guy's wrist another squeeze while John smiled at him cheerfully over Rodney's shoulder and pretended he wasn't tensing for a fight or reaching for a gun that wasn’t there.

John slid up tight to Rodney and settled into the possessive curve of his arm again.  "Rodney, I really need to be sucking your cock within the next ten minutes," John said loud enough for grabby to hear. 

Rodney grinned and only had to clear his throat once before he answered, "I'll tell you when you go on your knees," in a disturbingly authoritative voice.

John waited one second to see if he was having any second thoughts with the direction the evening had gone in, and when the answer was a resounding no, he let his bottom lip jut out a bit and he scowled.  Rodney rewarded him with a dirty laugh.  John felt lighter somehow, as if he was floating above the ground.

Rodney had a low voiced conversation with the doorman that John decided didn't need to be his problem.  They were whisked inside and up a staircase into a VIP area that overlooked the under-populated dance floor and provided some respite from the obnoxiously loud music.  John walked slightly ahead of Rodney, as they were led to a curved booth with a low table that overlooked the dance floor.  He ignored the heads that were turning to check him out. 

They were barely seated before their drinks arrived.  Rodney took a sip of his and grimaced.  "Watered, of course, but that's just as well."

John ignored his own drink and not bothering to wait for an invitation, he crawled half on top of Rodney.  He slid his hands along Rodney's neck and into his hair, letting one thumb brush against Rodney's pounding pulse in passing.  He proceeded to drive himself crazy with Rodney's lips and tongue and teeth.  Exactly two people had ever witnessed John kissing another man, unless you counted that one drunken night on the planet with the slave banquet, and John barely remembered it so he didn't.  He certainly hadn't ever expected to spend an evening grinding his crotch against Rodney in various locations around Denver, but he wasn't complaining; he felt like he was flying.  He knew people were watching him, and he liked it.  He liked the way they stared, liked the way Rodney's eyes and hands laid claim to him while they watched.

*

John was sprawled against the far curve of the booth maintaining some necessary distance from Rodney for a while and enjoying a very icy glass of water.  He'd waved off about five invitations to dance from various guys. 

Rodney beckoned him closer and John slid around the booth and pressed tight against Rodney again.  "Maybe I should have put a collar on you, let these assholes know you're mine."

John flushed, glad and sorry both that Rodney hadn't pushed him that far.  "I don't think anybody paying attention has any doubts, Rodney."

Rodney ran his thumb over John's lips, and John was about to open his mouth when Rodney's attention was taken by a guy smart enough to ask Rodney first if he could take John down to the dance floor.  Rodney leaned towards John and spoke into his ear, "Only if you want to."

John looked the guy over with the carefully blank look he reserved for potentially dangerous new friends.  The guy just raised an eyebrow and stared back.  John turned to Rodney and raised his own brow.  "You want to watch?" 

Rodney grinned.  Of course he wanted to watch.  The guy was blond and gorgeous.  John smiled back and stood up slowly, trying for seductive and probably achieving stiffly contained nervousness.  He grabbed the guy by his expensive shirt and hauled him close enough to yell at him, "Keep your hands where I can see them.  He gets a bit possessive, and I don't want to finish the evening in the police station."

The guy kept John dancing through a few indistinguishable songs.  He leaned forward in one blessedly quiet moment and said, "Your man, he likes to take a firm hand with you?" 

"Oh yeah, he likes it nice and firm," John said and spent the next two songs lost in the image of Rodney, tied to the wall, ass turning red from the slap of the leather strap in John's hand.  John loved giving Rodney a hard ride with the strap and the flogger, loved the way doing it left his own body warm and loose and singing with desire.  He tried to make himself feel that way now.  He knew Rodney was watching, and he wanted to put on a good show.

The blond returned John unmolested to Rodney, and they spent a furious few minutes yelling in each other's ears.  John draped himself over Rodney when the blond gave up and left for greener pastures.  "So did you just turn down a kinky threesome?"  John asked.

"Hell yeah, I can have a threesome anytime I want with you and the hottest man or woman in any galaxy, why the hell would I settle for him?"

John dropped his head onto Rodney's shoulder suddenly homesick and suddenly sick of the exhibitionism he'd been enjoying just a moment before.  "I really want to be naked with you," he said.  "I really want you to fuck me."

"Yeah?  Because I really had my heart set on a quick and dirty in the really unhygienic men's room.  I was thinking the one that doesn't have doors on the stalls might be fun."

John grinned at him and decided on one final performance for the crowds around them.  He climbed on Rodney and clasped his hands behind his back.  He dipped his head down a little and looked up through his lashes and licked his lips.  Rodney gripped John's wrists hard with one hand and fisted his other in John's hair.  He pulled John down to him and took his mouth with his tongue and teeth.  He wasn't fooling around.  His grip on John's wrists and hair was hard enough to hurt, and John was certain his lips would be bleeding before Rodney let him go.

When Rodney did let him go, he nearly tipped over onto the floor.  Rodney hauled him to his feet and wrapped his arm around John's chest.  John was pulled tight against Rodney, and he could see that most of the men nearby had stopped watching the dance floor and where staring at him instead.  Rodney ran his hand slowly down John's body coming to rest against his erection.  John couldn't have stopped the thrust of his hips against Rodney's hand if he'd wanted to.  Rodney let him go before things went too far and pushed a few people out of his way and headed for the stairs.  John pressed himself as tight against Rodney as he could and let himself be led away.

"Come on," Rodney said into his ear.  "I've got a car with a sober driver waiting out front and a hotel room with a very nice bed waiting for us.  Let's go be alone again."


End file.
